Habeas Corpus
by Stacia Seaman
Summary: Scully has a disturbing reaction to a case when she and Mulder investigate some bones found in a swamp in southern Virginia.


**Title: Habeas Corpus**

Author: Stacia Seaman

E-Mail: stacia_seaman@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Category: X

Spoilers: None

Keywords: None

Summary: Scully has a disturbing reaction to a case when she and Mulder investigate some bones found in a swamp in southern Virginia.

* * * * *

Monday, 5.42 am

Someone was after her. She ran blindly though the swamp. Wet mud grabbed at her feet and saw-grass slashed at her hands as she frantically clawed her way through. The dense foliage thinned, and she found herself in a small clearing. Gasping for air, she spun around, trying to find the car, a light, anything that would point the way back to civilization and safety. A nearby splash startled her into motion. She ran into the tall sedge, then stopped abruptly at the glint of metal in the moonlight. The hatchet blade continued its inevitable arc toward her neck--

*****

Dana Scully sat bolt upright, her heart pounding wildly and her pajamas damp with sweat. Still slightly disoriented, she made an effort to control her breathing. The familiar furnishings of her bedroom had a calming effect and the stark terror that she'd felt upon waking began to recede. She got out of bed and looked out the window. The sky was just beginning to lighten. With a deep sigh, she turned and went into the bathroom to get ready for work.

* * * * *

Monday, 8.56 am

When he arrived at the office, Mulder was not surprised to see that Scully's computer was on; she'd been in the office by 7 every morning for the last two weeks. He glanced over and saw that her e-mail was open, her inbox cleared of new messages. The papers in her recycling bin and a neat stack of folders to the right of her keyboard indicated that Scully had already been upstairs to pick up the latest requests for their assistance and then had read and filed them accordingly. Mulder poked through the recycling bin, looking for something interesting, then conceded with a sigh that she'd been right in her assessments.

Moving over to his own computer, he jabbed at the power switch before noticing the small yellow note on his monitor.

"Skinner called me into his office. Back soon. –S"

Mulder sat back in his chair and waited impatiently for his computer to finish booting up. He stirred his coffee and took a small sip, grimaced, then set it aside. When the computer had finally gone through its internal contortions, he opened his e-mail and was surprised to find that there were no messages from Skinner. He picked up a pencil and tapped it on the edge of the desk.

The two agents had met with the assistant director just yesterday. The dark circles under Scully's eyes hadn't escaped Skinner's attention, and he'd asked Mulder to stay in his office after Scully left. "Is there anything going on that I should be aware of?"

"No, sir, not that she's mentioned to me." Mulder hadn't voiced his own concerns about Scully's obvious lack of sleep.

Skinner had looked at him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, before dismissing him with a curt nod.

Mulder leaned back in his chair and looked up at the pencil marks on the ceiling tiles. He reminded himself that there were any number of reasons for Skinner to meet with Scully. First thing in the morning. Alone. Sitting up straight, he craned his neck to peek at her computer, but was too far away to read the characters on the screen.

Just as well, he thought, it's none of my business. He turned his attention to his own inbox, but after rereading the same message three times, he gave in to his burning curiosity. After listening for footsteps in the hall, he walked over to Scully's computer and glanced at her inbox. Nothing from Skinner.

"Maybe you should check the trash folder."

Mulder whirled around. "Jesus, Scully. You trying to kill me?"

She stood, arms crossed, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You wouldn't have found anything anyway. He called just after I got here."

Mulder nodded, but didn't move.

Brushing past him, she sat down in her chair and opened the file she'd brought in with her. A moment passed in silence before Scully looked up. "Well, Mulder, aren't you going to ask what Skinner wanted to talk to me about?"

Mulder leaned against her desk. "I'm all ears."

Scully held his gaze for a moment, then looked back down at the file. "Tidewater Virginia. A hunter found what could be human bones in one of the swamps. Friend of A.D. Skinner's works for the sheriff's office, asked if the Bureau could help make a positive I.D."

"And?"

"There is no 'and.' Skinner asked me to go down there and do the forensic work." She flipped the folder shut.

"Oh." Her partner reached for the file.

"Mulder." He looked up at her.

"This isn't an x-file." Seeing his look of surprise, she continued in a gentler tone. "Look, it'll only take a couple of days. Besides, don't you have some paperwork to catch up on?"

"Actually, I thought I might go with you, Scully. I can do the legwork while you slice and dice. Whaddya say?" Mulder picked up the folder, which she deftly plucked from his fingers and stowed in her briefcase.

As she walked out the door, she said over her shoulder, "I'll pick you up in an hour."

Smiling, Mulder called after her. "Don't forget to pack the Skin So Soft."

* * * * *

Monday, 3.16 pm

Suffolk, Virginia

The traffic on Interstate 95 had been remarkably light and they'd made good time. Since they didn't have any details regarding the case, Mulder hadn't come up with any outlandish theories for Scully to shoot down. Instead, he'd settled for tuning the car radio to G. Gordon Liddy's call-in show, trying to hide his amusement at Scully's running criticism of the host's chauvinist tendencies. After almost two hours of talk radio, however, even Mulder had heard enough. He'd turned it off and the remainder of the drive had passed quietly.

Scully awoke when the car came to a stop in front of the sheriff's office. She stretched, then looked over at Mulder. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not long." He reached over and tucked a wayward strand of auburn hair back into place. "Shall we?"

The sheriff's office, though small, was neat and obviously well-organized. A plump blonde woman immediately approached them. "Afternoon. What can I do for you?" Her eyes flickered to the two agents' badges.

"We're agents Scully and Mulder from the FBI. I believe Sheriff Simpson is expecting us." Scully spoke briskly.

"Oh, yes. I'm Sarah Kahl, the office manager here. Sheriff Simpson told me you'd be coming. He's out at the swamp right now." The blonde walked to a nearby desk. "I'll just call and let him know you're here."

Scully nodded their thanks and leaned in toward Mulder. "Play your cards right and maybe she'll get you a date with the Swamp Thing."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Mulder walked over to a map on the wall. "I have it on good authority that Swamp Thing's a boy. He's all yours."

The office manager's return put a stop to their banter. "Sheriff Simpson's on his way back. He should be here in about 10 minutes."

Mulder nodded absently, absorbed in the map.

"Kelly Tisdale found the bones right here." Sarah pointed to a spot just inside the boundaries of the wildlife refuge. "He was out hunting, I guess, or fishing, and pulled 'em up. Good thing his kids weren't along."

"Has someone taken Mr. Tisdale's statement?" Mulder turned to face the office manager.

"Sheriff Simpson did, this morning. I'll type it up soon as he gets back." She looked from Mulder to Scully. "In the meantime, can I get you something to drink? Some coffee, maybe?"

Scully sighed gratefully. "That would be wonderful."

"I'll bring it right out." With a smile, Sarah turned and left the room.

Scully moved closer to the map, studying the area in which the bones had been found. "There don't seem to be any roads going back to that part of the swamp. That's a long way to carry a body."

"Or chase someone."

A chill ran down Scully's spine.

Mulder added, "That's a good point, though. I wonder if that area's accessible by boat?" 

He stopped when he saw that Scully had gone pale. She sat down and leaned her head forward, massaging the back of her neck.

"Listen, why don't I talk to the sheriff while you get us checked in at the hotel?" Mulder tried to keep the concern out of his voice. "He can drop me off and we can review the case over dinner."

"Thanks, Mulder, but I'm fine." Scully didn't meet Mulder's eyes. "Besides, I'd rather hear the details from the sheriff."

Mulder was about to press the point when the door opened and a large, solidly built man entered. On seeing the two agents, he broke into a wide grin.

"You must be Scully and Mulder." He removed his hat and extended a roughened hand. "I'm Merrick Simpson."

"Nice to meet you, Sheriff." Scully stood and returned the sheriff's firm but gentle handshake.

"Sarah, I've got that report for you to type up." The sheriff pulled the clipboard from inside his jacket as the blonde woman walked toward them.

The office manager placed two cups on a long work table near the window and took the clipboard. "I'll get right on it. Bring you a copy as soon as I'm done."

"Thanks, Ms. Kahl." Smiling, Scully picked up a cup and took a sip of the strong, hot coffee.

"Just call me Sarah," the blonde woman said, returning the smile. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Why don't we go into my office and I can fill you in on the details?" The sheriff picked up his hat and, nodding to the office manager, led the two agents down the hallway.

*****

"So, as you can see, we don't have a lot to go on." Sheriff Simpson clasped his hands on his desk. "In fact, at this point we're not even sure those bones are human. Normally I'd send 'em over to Hampton, let the folks over there take a look."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. "Why didn't you do that this time?"

The sheriff shrugged. "Swamp's a national wildlife refuge, so I figured it should go to the feds. I called up Walt, filled him in, and he said he had just the team for me."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other for a moment.

"Sheriff Simpson..." Scully began.

The burly man interrupted her. "I already spoke to the folks in the lab, Dr. Scully, and you'll get full privileges there. Jurisdiction won't be a problem."

Scully smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'll check in with them first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good." The sheriff smiled back. "They're looking forward to meeting you."

"If you don't mind, Sheriff, I'd like to go out to the swamp with you." Mulder stood as he spoke.

"Of course." The lawman stood and shook the agents' hands. "See you tomorrow morning then."

"Thanks again, Sheriff." Scully turned toward the door.

"Thanks, Sheriff." Mulder followed his partner into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

"He seems nice enough." Scully looked up at her partner.

"He's definitely trying to make a good impression." Mulder leaned in slightly and lowered his voice.

"So we'll give a good report to Skinner." A hint of a smile was Scully's only reaction to Mulder's jibe. "Didn't we pass a steak house on the way into town?"

"There's a porterhouse with your name on it, Scully."

* * * * *

She stood in the shoulder-high grass, listening for any sign of her pursuer, but all she could hear were insects and the water gently lapping against her ankles. Some preternatural instinct kicked in, allowing her to sense a presence closing in on her. She ran, ignoring the burning in her lungs and the sudden sharp pains in her hands as she frantically cleared a path through the saw-grass. In desperation, she tried to recall a way out of the swamp, but it was too late. From the corner of her eye, she spied the glint of metal in the moonlight, watching in horror as the hatchet blade gained momentum.

*****

Scully fumbled for the bedside lamp, flinging one arm over her eyes to shield them against the sudden glare. She had already taken several deep breaths before she had calmed enough to notice the stinging in her hands. As she pushed herself into a sitting position, she noticed blood on the bed sheet. Frowning, she held her hands out in front of her and saw several long, shallow cuts on the edges of both palms. A quick glance at the nightstand didn't reveal anything that might have caused the wounds.

She got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Once she'd washed her hands, she examined them closely in the harsh bathroom light. The cuts were fresh and had been made by something very sharp. She looked to her reflection for an explanation, but, exhausted and shaken by the dream, the wan image offered nothing.

* * * * *

Tuesday, 7.48 am

Mulder's hand was poised to knock on Scully's door when the a cheerful voice rang out behind him.

"Mornin', Agent Mulder. How are you today?"

Mulder turned around. "Oh, hi, Sheriff Simpson."

"Your partner called me a while ago, left a message that she was on her way to the lab and you might need a lift around town." The sheriff had a paper cup in each hand. "Coffee?"

"Thanks, Sheriff." Mulder took the offered cup and sipped from it, then looked up, surprised. "This is good."

The burly man laughed. "I'll tell Sarah you said so. Ready to go?"

"After you."

The two men walked out to the brown squad car.

Mulder pointed to the large hunting lamp mounted in front of the driver's side window. "I've seen a lot of these here. Ever catch any big game?"

"Nah, just teenagers necking in the woods," the sheriff answered with a grin.

* * * * *

Scully stared at the x-ray image, grateful for the dim lighting in the room. The bone was clearly the ulna of a human adult.

"Or possibly a teenager." Scully interlaced her fingers behind her neck and leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling as she debated her options. She'd already extracted a sample for DNA testing and sent it to the FBI lab at Quantico. If the sample matched that of a registered felon, they could quickly make a positive ID on the remains; if not....

Conceding that she'd done all she could do in the lab for now, Scully snapped the x-ray off its clips and nudged the door open with her shoulder. Once in the hallway, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me."

"Morning, sunshine."

Scully smiled. "Where are you?"

"The Great Dismal Swamp."

Scully heard a muffled curse followed by a slap. "Mulder..."

"You're wrong about vampires, Scully. I'm surrounded by them." Another curse and slap. "What did you find out?"

"Well, the bone is definitely human. An ulna, one of the bones of the forearm." She shifted the phone to her other ear. "I'm afraid there's not much else I can tell you."

"Not at all?"

"No, until the test results come back I'm pretty much dead in the water." Scully abruptly stopped speaking, her pulse pounding in her ears. Gradually she became aware of Mulder's voice.

"...Scully, you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mulder. Just thinking." She cleared her throat. "Listen, I'm gonna get something to eat. Want to meet back at the sheriff's office later to exchange notes?"

"Sounds good."

She nodded and flipped her phone shut, then shoved it into her pocket. Suddenly chilled, Scully crossed her arms and shuddered.

*****

Mulder jammed his phone into his pants and turned back toward Sheriff Simpson, who was crouched beside a deputy, peering into the murky water.

"That your partner?" The sheriff stood and walked over.

"Yeah. The bone was from a human arm. She'll explain the details this afternoon."

"Well then, I guess we'd better keep looking." The sheriff called to his deputy. "Tim, widen the search area."

Mulder swore and slapped his neck, leaving a bloody streak against his skin.

* * * * *

Tuesday, 11.47 am

Scully followed the antiseptic hallway to the lab, inhaling the pungent aroma she'd come to associate with discovery. She looked over the line of tables housing various pieces of machinery, assorted flasks, and racks of test tubes. A bulletin board, containing several memos, notices, and comic strips, hung beside the door. Moving closer, she chuckled at a creased black and white photograph, showing two men looking up from a dual-headed microscope, that bore the legend "Two Ed-ed Microscope."

"Pathologist humor."

Scully jumped.

"Sorry if I startled you, Dr. Scully." The lab director smiled genially, hands in the pockets of his blue lab coat.

"I didn't hear you come in." Scully looked from the grey-bearded man to one of the young men in the photo. "Is that you, Dr. Britt?"

"Sure is. Long time ago." He pointed to the other man. "That's my best friend from med school. I'm Edwin, he's Edmund." Running his fingers lightly over the photo, he continued, "We had some good times together."

Scully nodded, saying nothing.

Turning away, Dr. Britt picked up a clipboard from the near table and scanned the figures on the top page. After a moment, he looked up. "Have you had lunch, Dr. Scully?"

"No, not yet."

"Want to grab a bite in the cafeteria? It's lasagne day."

"Garlic bread?" When the older man nodded, Scully walked over to the table where she'd been working and began to tuck her papers into a file folder. "Is your lab always this quiet?"

"No. This is quite unusual. Mario--Dr. Hubblestein, our medical examiner, and most of the others are at a conference in New Orleans until Monday." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "A John Doe came into the morgue yesterday morning. I may have to do the post myself. Been years since I've done an autopsy."

Scully looked over at him, surprised.

"What can I say, I'm a lab rat. I spend most of my time in here."

A moment passed with only the sound of rustling paper, then Scully spoke softly. "If you like, I can autopsy the body for you."

Dr. Britt put his hands out, palms forward. "That's nice of you to offer, but I'm sure you've got your hands full with your own investigation."

Scully shook her head. "Not really. Just waiting for some test results." She closed the folder. "I'd be happy to help."

"Then I'll take you up on that." The bearded man opened the lab door. "But lunch is my treat."

*****

Scully set a small voice-activated recorder on the stainless steel counter, then reached up and flicked on the bright light of the autopsy bay. After giving the date and time, she began to read the information from the John Doe's file, speaking slowly and clearly. "File number 1100-321JD. John Doe, adult male, Caucasian, weighing 145 pounds and measuring 70 inches in extremis. Right arm amputated."

She fell silent for a moment. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Reaching over, she grabbed two latex gloves from the dispenser and pulled them on, then pulled back the white sheet that was draped over the body. "I'll begin with a visual exam." 

* * * * *

Tuesday, 4:29 pm

The sheriff's office was quiet except for the occasional click of fingers on a keyboard. Finally, with a sigh, Mulder leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. After lunch he'd returned to the office and begun the lengthy task of trying to put a name to the remains that had been pulled from the swamp.

He'd reviewed missing persons reports, starting locally and, when that turned up no real leads, gradually expanding the search area until it included the entire mid-Atlantic region. The remote location of the discovery made it likely that the body had been dumped by someone familiar with the area. Someone who knew the swamp.

He closed his eyes and reviewed his mental list of questions about Scully's examination of the arm bone. What was its condition? Had it been damaged? If so, when, and by what?

The chairs legs hit the ground with a thump as Mulder stood. He stretched for a moment, then went to the kitchenette to refill his coffee.

*****

Scully was at the work table when he returned. Her head leaned against the wall and her chest rose and fell with her breath. As Mulder walked closer, he could see that her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly open. A file folder lay loosely clasped in her hands. He reached out and gently, almost regretfully, touched her shoulder, startling her awake.

"Mulder." Scully straightened in her seat, unconsciously smoothing her hair.

"Do you want some coffee?" Mulder raised his cup. "Just put on a fresh pot."

"Sounds good." She stood up quickly and walked toward the kitchenette.

The front door slammed, announcing the sheriff's return. "Agent Mulder." He threw his ever-present clipboard onto the table and sat down with a grunt. "I see that Dr. Scully is back from the lab."

Mulder nodded. "She's getting some coffee."

"Oh." The sheriff slouched in his chair and stretched out his legs. "You find anything?"

"Agent Mulder and I were just about to review our findings." Scully walked back into the room with a steaming mug. Sheriff Simpson jumped to his feet and offered his chair to her, touching the brim of his hat when she smiled her thanks. He then took a seat in the chair next to the window.

Mulder studied the lawman's silhouette against the setting sun and mused that only the sheriff's confident military posture saved him from looking completely goofy in his absurdly broad-brimmed hat. He smothered a grin and turned his attention back to the conversation.

"The bone is definitely that of an adult human, I'd say late 20s or early 30s." Scully spoke briskly. "When the test results come in, I might be able to tell you a little more."

Mulder interrupted. "What about the condition of the bone itself?"

"It's been in the water for a while, at least a couple of years." She watched Mulder as she spoke. "It had some scratches on one end that look like they were made by some sort of blade."

"Like a knife?" Mulder leaned his forearms on the table.

"Possibly." Scully drew the word out.

"Why do you ask, Agent Mulder?" The sheriff looked from Scully to Mulder.

"As you know, we don't have much to go on in this case," Mulder looked at Sheriff Simpson, who nodded. "We need to look not only at what the bone tells us about the victim, but also what it tells us about whoever put the body in the swamp."

"So you think this is a homicide." The sheriff removed his hat and ran one hand through his hair. "Oh boy."

"We're not certain of anything at this point." Scully gave Mulder a look of warning before continuing. "The scratches could have been made by a blade, possibly a knife, with a serrated edge."

Mulder leaned back in his chair. "So probably not a hunting knife."

"I'd say not." Scully closed the folder. "What did you find out?"

"Not much. I checked the missing persons reports going back about ten years, put in a couple of calls." Mulder crossed his arms. "The problem is I don't know what I'm looking for."

Scully nodded. "Yeah, I know. The DNA should give us more to go on." She took a sip of coffee. "How's the search going, Sheriff?"

"Looks good. That part of the swamp is pretty brackish. Water doesn't move around much. The main problem's the mud and the animals." The burly man rested his arm on the table. "Deputy Branch has a lot of search and rescue experience inside the preserve. He knows what he's doing. If there're more bones down there, he'll find 'em."

Mulder nodded. "I'd like to go out there again in the morning."

"Sure. You coming with us?" Sheriff Simpson turned to Scully.

"No, actually, I need to go back to the lab."

Mulder looked at her, surprised. "I thought you were waiting on the test results from Quantico?"

"I am. This is something else I'm working on." Scully opened a folder. "A John Doe came into the morgue yesterday morning. They're short-staffed at the moment, so I agreed to do the autopsy." She handed each man a description and a photograph. "There wasn't a visible cause of death. I'm hoping something will show up on the tox screen."

"I'll get one of my deputies to look into this first thing."

Mulder looked carefully at the description of the body, then up at Scully. "He's missing an arm?"

"I'm sure it's just a coincidence," Scully said coolly.

"But did you check it?"

"Of course I did, Mulder." Her voice communicated her exasperation. "The wound was inflicted postmortem."

Mulder persisted. "Doesn't that seem a little odd to you? Why would someone cut off a dead man's arm?"

"I didn't say it had been cut off. A predator probably found the body and--"

Mulder laughed. "And made off with the drumstick?"

Scully regarded him silently for a moment. "What I'm saying is that these cases aren't related. There's no way that the bone I examined yesterday morning came from that John Doe."

Mulder nodded, lost in thought. "If you say so, Scully."

* * * * *

Wednesday, 2:36 am

The printed pages grew blurry in the weak light of the bedside lamp. Mulder blinked, trying to clear his vision, then snapped the binder shut and set it aside. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

Clad in undershirt and boxers, he sat on the edge of the mattress. Through the thin motel walls he could hear Scully flipping through the limited selection of television channels. After glancing at the clock, he rose and walked quietly to the adjoining door. Hand on the knob, he hesitated. Whatever was bothering his partner, she'd made it clear that she wanted to work it out alone. Any effort he made to comfort her would almost certainly be rejected.

With a sigh, he turned and walked back to his bed.

*****

She looked wildly from side to side, then quickly spun around, but couldn't detect any signs of whoever was chasing her ever deeper into the swamp. Heart pounding and lungs burning, she stood and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself and get her bearings. After a moment she moved forward slowly, cautiously, pushing a path through the tall sedge. Her head snapped to the left when she heard something splash close by. Giving in to terror, she ran, her mind barely registering the pain of the saw-grass cutting her hands. She stumbled through water and mud, stopping only when she noticed the glint of metal in the moonlight. She screamed as the sharp blade of the hatchet bit into her neck.

*****

Scully awoke with a strangled cry. She glanced around the dingy room before realizing that she had fallen asleep atop the bedspread, still wearing her rumpled pantsuit. Her tired muscles screamed as she slowly stood and stretched. She grabbed her pajamas from the dresser drawer and walked into the bathroom, blinking at the sudden glare of the fluorescent light.

She splashed cool water onto her face and, eyes still shut, leaned against the cool tile of the counter, trying to erase the lingering images of her dream. With a deep sigh, she raised her head, then froze when she saw the blood-tinged droplets of water in the sink. Looking down, she saw that the shallow cuts on her hands had come open and were once again oozing blood. Hissing at the sting, she rinsed her hands under the tap and shook off the excess water. As she reached for a towel, she noticed the thin line of blood across her throat.

* * * * * 

Wednesday, 6.53 am

Scully walked down the dark, quiet corridor. Pausing just outside the lab, she could hear the hum of machinery, the clink of glass on ceramic, and the low voices of Dr. Britt and a lab tech discussing the results of an early-morning biopsy. Both men turned when she pushed open the door.

"Morning, Dr. Scully." The lab director raised his mug. "Didn't expect to see you here this early."

Scully walked into the room and put her folders on an empty work table. "I was up, so I thought I'd come in and check the results of the tox screen on that John Doe."

"I'll get it for you." The younger man scurried out the door.

"Have some coffee." Dr. Britt gestured toward a cabinet door. "Cups are up there. Milk's in the fridge."

"Thank you." Scully inhaled the rich aroma as she filled a mug bearing the legend "Pathologists do it with stiffs." Hesitantly, she opened the small refrigerator, then let out a relieved breath when she noted that it seemed to be used solely for food. Stirring the milk into her coffee, she moved back to the table.

She wrapped her hands around the mug and blew gently on the surface before taking a tentative sip, then looked up when the door was pushed open.

"Tox screen was clean." The young technician handed the report to Scully. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"That's odd." Frowning, Scully quickly scanned the pages.

"Why do you say that?" Dr. Britt moved closer and extended one hand. "Can I see it?"

"Yeah, sure." Lost in thought, she stared at her coffee.

"Clean as a whistle." The lab director tossed the report onto the table. "Any idea what killed him?"

"No." She shook her head once. "His right arm had been removed, but that was after he was already dead."

The two doctors silently regarded each other for a moment, then Dr. Britt uncrossed his arms and cocked his head. "Want to take another look?"

"Sure." Scully grabbed her folders and followed the director down the lab to the morgue.

*****

"I thought you said he'd lost the right arm?" Dropping the corner of the white sheet back onto the body, Dr. Britt looked up at Scully.

"That's right." Scully pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "Just below the shoulder."

The lab director once again lifted the corner of the sheet, then folded it back, exposing the torso. "I think you should see this."

Giving Dr. Britt a quizzical glance, Scully walked over to the open crypt, then looked at the body. "Oh my God," she said, in shock.

*****

Mulder barely heard the chirping of his cell phone over the excited voices of the sheriff and his deputy. Covering one ear and turning away from the other men, he answered the call, shouting over the din. "Mulder."

"You don't have to yell, Mulder."

"Hey, Scully, I was just about to call you." Mulder shifted the phone to his other ear. "You'll never guess what we just found."

"Another bone." Scully spoke mechanically.

"Yeah, that's right." Mulder's voice lost its exuberance. "Something wrong, Scully?"

"Can you tell what kind of bone?"

"Hold on. They're just pulling it out of the water." Mulder turned and shouted, "Hey, Sheriff, can you bring that over here for a second?"

The other man looked up and nodded.

"OK, Scully, he's on his way." Mulder watched as the deputy stood and squished his way through the muddy water, carrying a clear plastic bag. "Thanks, Tim."

"Is it just one bone?" Scully's voice conveyed a hint of impatience.

"No, actually, we found three." Mulder held up the bag and looked closely at it. "I think it's another arm."

There was silence on the other end, followed by a long sigh. "Mulder, I think you should come over here."

* * * * *

Wednesday, 9.03 am

Mulder wrinkled his nose as he entered the morgue. "Scully, what's that smell?"

The redhead took a delicate sniff, then moved closer to her partner and sniffed again. "I think it's you, Mulder." She stepped away. "What did you put on, anyway?"

"Oh, that's Tim's bug goo." Mulder made a face and held out his arms. "Look, I didn't get any bites."

Scully raised her eyebrows and nodded, trying to hide her smile.

"You wanted to show me something?" Mulder ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, I do. It's about that John Doe I autopsied yesterday."

"The one with the missing arm? What about him?"  
  


"Well, I didn't find a cause of death during the exam. I was hoping the tox screen would show us something, but it came back clean."

"Go on." Mulder leaned slightly forward.

"I decided to take another look." Scully walked over to the wall and opened a crypt.

Mulder followed and looked down at the body.

"When we got here, we found this." She pulled back the sheet to expose the dead man's torso.

"I thought you said..." Mulder's voice trailed off as he looked up at his partner.

Scully nodded. "The right arm was missing."

"Then how do you explain..." Mulder gestured toward the body.

"Apparently someone came in here sometime last night and removed his left arm as well." Her voice remained calm, but she slammed the crypt shut with slightly more force than was necessary. She leaned her head against the cool metal before turning around. "Now before you say anything, Mulder--"

He cut her off. "The corpse loses an arm the same day we pull one out of the swamp? Don't you think that's just a little too coincidental?"

She sighed. "I don't know what to think, Mulder. We don't know yet what happened."

"Well, what did the employees have to say? Did you check the log? Do they have surveillance tapes?"

Scully shook her head. "And the lab tech on duty didn't hear a thing." She paused for a moment. "I just don't get it, Mulder. Why would someone steal a dead man's hand? So we couldn't ID the body? But if that's the case, why leave the head? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe that's not what's happening here." Mulder spoke slowly. "Did you examine the..." He waved at the crypt.

"Of course, Mulder, but what--"

"Can you tell how the arm was removed?"

Scully nodded. "It was cut off."

"With a knife?"

She nodded again.

"Could you tell if the edge was serrated?"

"It's possible." Scully continued, preventing Mulder from responding. "Look, I know where you're going with this, Mulder, and you're wrong."

"Is there any way to compare the markings on the bones from the swamp with this body?"

"Yes, but I don't need to. There's no connection, Mulder." She spoke firmly, but didn't look her partner in the eye.

"Humor me, Scully." Mulder leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Please?"

She looked at him for a moment before sighing. "All right, Mulder."

*****

Scully scrubbed at her damp hair with a rough towel, trying to make sense of what she'd found during her examination of John Doe and the bones from the swamp. There was no denying it; the knife marks matched up.

With a sigh, she pulled out her cell phone. "Mulder, it's me. I'll be there in an hour."

*****

"I don't quite follow, Scully." Mulder looked again at the photographs of the knife scratches. "Are you saying these bones are all from the same body?"

"Of course not." Shoving the photos back into a file folder, she continued, "but there is a connection. I think that the same type of knife might have been used to cut up both bodies."

"So, what? Someone found the knife and is playing Dr. Frankenstein?"

A shudder ran through Scully's small frame. She shook her head slightly. "If we can find the person who desecrated the John Doe, we'll know what kind of knife we're looking for. That's all I'm saying."

"That's all?" He laughed. "You don't honestly believe this is just a coincidence, do you?"

She silently regarded the swamp.

"Oh, come on, Scully. If someone wanted to steal a body, they'd take the whole thing, not a piece at a time."

Turning to face Mulder, she raised an eyebrow.

Just as he was about to respond, Tim's voice came over the radio. "I think we got something here."

The agents made their way through the muck to where the deputy stood. Beside him was a pile of bones.

"Darndest thing," he said. "I swear we've passed over this spot ten times, and all of a sudden there they all were."

Mulder looked over at Scully, who was already talking into her cell phone. With a disgusted expression, she flipped it shut.

"I've got to get back to the morgue. The body is gone. All that's left is the head."

* * * * *

Wednesday, 7.42 pm

Scully stabbed at a wedge of tomato. "It just doesn't make sense. The fingerprints are gone. DNA samples, too."

Mulder, about to take a bite of cheeseburger, paused. "But they left the head?"

She nodded. "And the dental x-rays."

Both agents munched in silence.

"What about the bones from the swamp? Anything new there?" Mulder took a sip of iced tea.

"They also show signs of trauma. I'll take a closer look tomorrow." She pushed her salad away, then folded her napkin and placed it neatly beside the plate. "Without a head, though, there's not really much more I can do. We've got no fingerprints, no dental records, and without anything to compare it against, the DNA's worthless. Even if someone confessed to the murder, we couldn't prove that this was the victim."

The dim light of the restaurant hid the dark smudges under Scully's eyes, but couldn't hide the way her shoulders slumped or the fatigue in her voice.

"Scully," Mulder began, but was interrupted by the arrival of their waiter.

When their plates had been removed and the bill settled, Mulder stood and helped Scully into her jacket. His hands lingered on her shoulders, gently massaging them. Her head lolled forward for a moment, then her body tensed. "We should get back to the hotel. I need to type up my notes."

* * * * *

Thursday, 12.21 am

Mulder ran his tongue over his newly clean teeth as he walked to the edge of the bed. He could hear the laughter from a late-night talk show through the door that connected his room with Scully's. Over the past few years, he'd gotten to know his partner's routine as well as his own, and Scully hated Conan O'Brien. She was obviously trying to keep herself awake for reasons that eluded Mulder. He'd seen her sleep soundly after determining the causes of deaths far more horrific and unsettling than these two. There was something she wasn't telling him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He lay on his back and switched off the lamp.

*****

The swamp was silent. Her own pounding heart and gulping breaths were all she could hear. Someone was coming. Closing in on her. She spun around, trying to catch sight of whoever it was, but saw nothing. Terrified, she ran, pushing aside the sharp saw-grass so that it wouldn't get in her eyes. Deep in the swamp, she finally slowed down, trying to get her bearings, when her eye caught the glint of metal in the moonlight. She could only stand and watch as the hatchet blade swung toward her, through her--

*****

Scully screamed.

Seconds later, she heard Mulder pounding on the door. "Scully! Are you all right? Let me in! Scully!"

Still shaking, she walked over and turned the knob, nearly falling to the ground when Mulder tumbled into the room, gun drawn.

"What is it, Scully? What..." His voice trailed off when his eyes stopped scanning the room and rested on her. "What happened to you?"

Almost in a daze, Scully took in the smeared red on the doorknob, then looked down at the cuts on her hand, which had once again come open and were dripping blood onto the carpet.

"I--I'm not sure, Mulder," she said, her eyes glassy. "I..."

He guided her to the bed, sitting her on the edge closest to the bathroom. "Be right back, Scully."

She sat with her hands resting palm-up on her thighs. Clinically assessing them, she realized that the previous night's wounds were healing well; the cuts that oozed blood were new.

Mulder reappeared and crouched beside her. He gently cleaned each hand with a damp towel, then reached up to push the hair away from her neck and back over her shoulders.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully put a hand to her neck, paling when her fingers came away wet with blood. She stood and moved to the dresser, then turned on a lamp as she looked into the mirror. "Oh my god."

Coming up behind her, Mulder handed her a damp washcloth. As she dabbed at the cut that ran from just under her right ear to the left edge of her jaw, he asked her, "So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said. "It was just a bad dream."

"And these cuts, Scully? Are they just part of some bad dream?"

She froze, her eyes fixed on his in the mirror, the faint memory of sharp grass and a metal blade edging into her consciousness. Looking down at the cheap simulated wood of the dresser, she said, "It was a nightmare, Mulder. I must've cut my palms with my own fingernails."

The excuse sounded flimsy even to her own ears, but sensing her fatigue, Mulder let it drop. "All right, Scully. Try to get some sleep."

* * * * *

Thursday, 9.26 am

A thorough investigation had yielded no information regarding the theft of John Doe's body. The surveillance tapes showed nothing, and the morgue attendant insisted that nobody had been in the vicinity.

"You expect me to believe that someone walked in here in the middle of the day and made off with a corpse and nobody saw anything?"

The morgue attendant cringed, unable to meet Scully's icy blue stare. Instead, he turned to Dr. Britt for help. "I checked the cameras myself, and they were working fine. After the last time--"

"The last time?"

Dr. Britt's raised hand forestalled any additional comment from Scully. "A practical joke involving some junior lab techs."

"And we recovered that one in less than six hours." The attendant's words were clipped.

"Well, it _was_ sitting at Dr. Hubblestein's desk."

Scully probed the inside of her cheek with her tongue as she listened to the exchange. "I'll be in the autopsy room."

*****

"Spare some change?"

Mulder looked at the man sitting beside the door of the state-run liquor store, a scrawny German Shepherd by his side. "That depends. How long have you been in Suffolk?"

"Me'n'Benita been here about six years now."

Nodding, Mulder pulled the photographs of John Doe from his inside coat pocket. "Ever seen this man?"

A shaking hand took the photo. "Nope. 'Fraid not."

Exchanging a ten-dollar bill for the Polaroid, Mulder said, "Thanks anyway. Get yourself and Benita something to eat."

He walked down the empty street, passing run-down storefronts and seedy bars. Outside the TideWater Tavern he saw another man sitting on a graffiti-laden bus stop bench.

"Excuse me."

Watery blue eyes blinked at him.

"I was wondering if you could help me with something. Do you by any chance know this man?" Mulder handed the man the photograph.

"Sure do," the man replied. "That there's Deke Munson."

*****

"Cause of death would appear to be stabbing with a sharp flat blade, probably an ax or a hatchet. Dismemberment occurred postmortem and was done using a knife with a serrated blade."

The bones from the swamp were laid out on the steel autopsy table. Scully had painstakingly reassembled the skeleton, noting that only the two uppermost cervical vertebrae and the skull were missing. Her fingers lingered on a bone chip.

"There's a small fragment that appears to be a part of the second cervical vertebra."

Clicking off the small recorder and dropping it into the pocket of her lab coat, she picked up the sliver of bone and examined it for a moment.

She turned toward the crypts and, after a moment's hesitation, opened the drawer containing John Doe's head.

The fragment fit neatly into place, a perfect match to the chipped vertebra where the head had been severed from the body.

Unconsciously fingering the cuts on her throat, Scully stared at the evidence before her.

*****

"So, Mr. Prestegard, how did you know Mr. Munson?" Mulder sipped cautiously at a steaming cup of coffee.

"Used to see him at the Tavern," the man said around a forkful of scrambled eggs. "Been a while, though."

"How long exactly?"

"Why, you lookin' for him?"

"You could say that."

"He took off 'bout five years ago." Prestegard broke a strip of bacon in half and shoved it into his mouth.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"Naw. Just up and left, I guess. Said some crazy dude was after him." The man snorted. "Thought he was gonna try to kill him."

"Did he say why?"

"Huh-uh." Scooping up the last of his eggs with a slice of toast, Prestegard looked over at Mulder. "Don't think that photo's gonna help you much, though."

Mulder looked at the Polaroid. "Why not? You recognized it."

"Yeah, but 5 years is a long time." Prestegard reached into his pocket and removed a creased, faded photograph of a young man with a blonde mop of hair standing next to Deke Munson.

Mulder's mouth dropped open as he looked from the picture to the balding man sitting in front of him.

"Yup, that was me. Who knows what he looks like now."

* * * * *

Thursday, 3.47 pm

"Have you ever considered moving to someplace like Suffolk, Scully? Maybe settle in as the medical examiner?"

"Not really. Why do you ask?"

"You just seem to have a way with local law enforcement." Mulder looked at the stack of signed death certificates in the basket on top of the filing cabinet. "Sheriff Simpson sends his regards."

Blue eyes flickered toward Mulder, then returned to the computer screen.

"I'm pretty sure we have an ID on that John Doe," he said. "His name's Deke Munson. Homeless guy recognized the photo."

Scully's shoulders tensed. "Any idea what happened to him?"

"Munson claimed he was being stalked. His friend gave us a name and a description. He's down at the sheriff's office now with the sketch artist."

Looking up from the computer, Scully gave a tight smile.

"Thing is..." Mulder sat on the corner of the desk. "Prestegard claims Munson looks exactly like he did the last time he saw him, which was nearly five years ago."

Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I have something to show you, Mulder."

*****

"So other than the skull, the skeleton is largely intact." Scully picked up the fragment of vertebra. "This fragment came from one of the bones of the neck when the head was severed."

Mulder grimaced.

"As you can see, it has a distinctive shape where it separated from the rest of the bone."

"Like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle."

"Exactly." She turned the piece over in her hand.

"And did you find a match?"

She tilted her head slightly and drew in a breath. "There was a chipped cervical vertebra with a similar surface on the John Doe."

"How similar?"

"See for yourself." Turning off the light of the autopsy bay, she brushed past Mulder and pulled open the drawer holding John Doe's head. "Oh my god."

"What is it, Scully?" Mulder looked over her shoulder at the empty crypt.

"The x-rays." Walking over to the counter, Scully flipped through the folders that were stacked on top. "They're gone, too."

"But that bone matched, right? It fit both the skeleton from the swamp and the John Doe?"

"I can't be sure, Mulder. There's no way to find out."

* * * * *

Friday, 9.23 pm

With a tired sigh, Scully pulled off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She stood and rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen the muscles in her neck, then stretched her arms over her head, savoring the crack of popping vertebrae and the accompanying release of tension in her lower back.

She slowly walked into the kitchen, filled the teakettle, and placed it on the stove. Leaning against the counter, she listened to the sound of heating water filling the room and relived the events of the past two days. A shrill whistle pulled her back to the present. She quickly grabbed an earthenware mug and a teabag and poured the hot water, then wrapped her hands around the warm mug and inhaled chamomile-scented steam.

Sipping at the hot liquid, she settled back in front of her computer and reviewed her report, lingering over the conclusion.

The remains found in the swamp have been tentatively identified as those of Deke Munson, and, based on the statement of John Prestegard, local law enforcement have begun a murder investigation with Daniel Edmondson as their primary suspect.

No positive identification was made of the body that appeared and then disappeared from the morgue. The evidence would suggest that an unknown person or persons delivered and then retrieved the body in order to prompt an investigation into Deke Munson's death; however, the identity of the person or persons responsible remains unknown at this time.

I am unable to substantiate Agent Mulder's conclusion that the body was that of Deke Munson, or his assertion that Munson was acting from beyond the grave.

Scully closed the document, then shut down the computer. Yawning, she walked down the hall and into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

*****

Clad in soft green satin pajamas, Scully sat on the edge of her bed for a moment before settling beneath the covers and reaching over to turn off her bedroom light. She watched as the moonlight cast shadows against the window, then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Finis

* * * * *

Author's Notes:

Though I've spent some time in Tidewater Virginia (and, according to my mother, was conceived there), I don't claim any great knowledge of the region. Please forgive any errors regarding locations mentioned in this story. Also, I don't claim to have any knowledge regarding forensic medicine, so please forgive any errors in that arena as well.

Special thanks and half the credit must go to Faithful, for spending countless hours with me on the phone and at the computer, discussing ideas and looking for that perfect word. I never would have started writing if it weren't for her support.

Thanks to Paul and ScullyMD and the Roanoke Scullython gang for listening to me babble about an unsettling dream and urging me to write it down.

* * * * *


End file.
